


Drawn Together

by mittenmaeda



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 22:18:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14435298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mittenmaeda/pseuds/mittenmaeda
Summary: Hinata inadvertently walks into Komaeda's room and ends up seeing something unexpected.





	Drawn Together

It was late evening as Hinata made his way back towards the hotel and his cottage. He was deeply hungover on blue ram anti-energy drink: he’d said ‘just one’, but Ibuki never went for just one, and before he knew it the two of them were passing the jug between them, giggling about the state of the music industry.

He couldn't wait to get in and sleep the remainder of the buzz out of his system.

As Hinata swung the door open, he was met with a sight that knocked the high right out of him. There was nothing  that sobered a person up quite like Nagito Komaeda being in the middle of a room when you weren't expecting it.

He was sat there cross-legged on the floor, perched in his usual coat and shirt, but entirely lacking in two-zipped shoes. Hinata had never wanted to look at Komaeda’s long, bony feet to start with, but only in that moment did he realise how low down his priority list it was.

It made sense that he had two zips. One might not have been enough to contain them.

The room itself seemed unfamiliar, if clean, save for the area around Komaeda, which was dusted in a significant amount of white powder.

“Ah!” Said Komaeda, brightly. “Just in time!”

“What are you doing in my room?” Hinata said, weakly.

“Your room?” Said Komaeda. “Well, I’m often wrong- I’m useless at things like geography. I’ve probably got myself lost! I’m so sorry, I’m such an inconvenience-”

Hinata drowned out the rest of the rambling as he took a few steps back to look at the name-tag outside, then frowned deeply. He’d clearly had far too much, because sure as day, that was Komaeda’s door.

It also made sense that the apparition in front of him didn't lock his door, because anyone intruding would be welcomed warmly and encouraged to attempt murder.

As he tried to make a swift exit from the scenario, Hinata felt two things at once. One was Komaeda’s hand, and the other was Komaeda’s other hand. They were dry and room temperature like an Egyptian mummy, and both were clasping him like a courted pair of pallid spiders.

He could even scent him. He smelled like potting soil and dust.

Hinata thought he was a sympathetic person. If nothing else, he truly didn't want any harm to befall any of his friends. However, Komaeda wasn't his friend. He’d have rather been waterboarded than hear anymore about Nagito’s cocaine habit.

“Komaeda,” he said, with a tone that promised to start formally and become gradually more hysterical.”I really don’t want to know how you got coke into the island. I won't even tell anyone, but-”

“Coke?” He opened his mouth in a shocked little ‘o’. “Oh, no, no, Hinata-kun- you’ve got me all wrong! Let me show you!”

Hinata began to sweat more profusely than before. “Uh-- no thanks, Nagito. This has been fun and everything, but I really have to go and wash my-”

It was too late. He was being gently persuaded to sit down on the rug- persuaded, of course, meaning politely bodied by more strength than should have existed in such a frail looking body.

From under a corner of the rug, Komaeda reached in and slid out a little chalkboard amd a cardboard pack with one single bit of chalk left.

He held out the board to Hinata solemnly. When Hinata didn't take it, he forced it into his hand.

“Now, Hajime- I’m going to need you to take notes.”

Then, before Hinata could object, Komaeda opened his mouth and put the chalk inside. Muted crunches escaped his lips, followed by a swallow.

He began to cough. Hinata would have moved to try and do something, but most of his brain cells had left to join a commune in Sonia’s country.

Komaeda started to choke violently. His knees hit the floor and he crawled towards the bookcase in the scrambling way that an insect under a shoe might make a break for a crack in the wall.

“Komaeda?” said Hinata.

Komaeda was fumbling around, books and random objects he’d presumably stolen from the library flying as he desperately sought something, choking violently the entire time.

“How am I supposed to take notes without the chalk?” Hinata asked. It didn't look like he was going to get a response. He hadn’t been provided with any other writing instruments, which was unfair.

Finally, Komaeda’s shaking hands reached what he’d been looking for. He pulled out a can of monster energy drink from an ornate sack, cracked open the lid and began to chug it furiously. Finally, the can was empty, and he threw the metal away across the room.

He had to catch his breath after than, bent nearly double as he fought for air.

“Oh, I’m so unlucky…” Komaeda panted, more to himself than the second party in the room. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve.“I’ve run out of chalk.”

Hinata looked at him blankly. “That’s not luck, Komaeda- you made a conscious choice to do what you just did, in front of me.”

Komaeda looked at him, as if he was about to say something contradictory, but instead turned to gaze blankly at his own hand. “It’s just my luck,” he repeated, forlornly.

Hinata looked around the room. The discarded monster. The dust. The scrapbook of pictures of ultimates Komaeda had found online and saved to print off and cut out lovingly.

He looked at the can of monster on the floor again and felt a twinge of sadness. Maybe Nagito Komaeda wasn’t so bad after all. He was just possessed by an evil spirit of some kind, and that wasn’t really his fault.

“Maybe I should help clean this up, so you don’t get unlucky and stab yourself with the dustpan.” he offered.

“Don’t worry, Hajime.” Komaeda  picked up the empty packet of chalk with his long bony foot and placed it, almost delicately, on the shelf. “I’m very good at cleaning,”


End file.
